


The King of the Sun

by animeguylover14



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aizen being a bitch, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Brainwashed Espada, Everyone underestimates Ichigo, Final Battle, God Kurosaki Ichigo, Good Aizen Sousuke, Good Head Captain, Isshin be keepin secrets, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Shiro being sassy, Some angst, The Ultimate Form of Zangestsu, overpowered Ichigo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeguylover14/pseuds/animeguylover14
Summary: The corner of Ichigo's lip ticked up in slight amusement, “you could say that I've done quite a bit of growing since last we met. You could say I am not even the same person. The funny thing about dying a few times, Aizen, is that you learn things you could otherwise never fathom.”“I can’t say I have ever had the experience,” Aizen said sarcastically.“I have no wish to grant you the experience either,” Ichigo intoned patiently.“Oh? But you wish to put a stop to me do you not?” He asked in feigned curiosity. “How do you propose to do so without killing me? Because I can assure you, I will not hesitate to wipe you from existence if you continue to get in my way, boy.” He finished with a narrowing of his eyes.“I don’t need to kill you Aizen, I need to kill who you are. I know about you Aizen. I know what you have done, who you have done it to, and I know why you think you are doing it. But I do not know you,” gold eyes hardened, “to truly know a man like you, one must cross blades. Only then will our souls truly reach each other.”
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 387





	The King of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> To start, I didn’t want to put too many tags cuz that’s a lot of work and no one wants to read a block of jumbled text. Almost every major character is in this fic or mentioned. This fic is a roller coaster of emotion but ends happily for everyone. 
> 
> This fic is Aizen x Ichigo pairing. If you do not care for this pairing then you may not enjoy this fic. That said, I apologize if it seems long winded or confusing. Sometimes I just have so many ideas that they take on a mind of their own and I rarely start and finish a story how I intended. 
> 
> Please enjoy and leave a comment if you like.

Ichigo broke through, and the sky shattered around him like shards of blue glass. 

He was finally whole. 

Battle upon battle, bloodshed, and internal struggle; then acceptance, and metamorphosis. 

His skin and soul meshing in a way it never had. 

He felt liberated.

The outpouring of his Reiatsu exploding outwards and around him, a veritable wave of energy and smoke pluming around him. 

His Hollow, shrieking in excitement for battle. Old Man Zangetsu a calming and steady presence at his side. 

Finally, truly one.

There was an echoing noise ringing and rattling as his obscured vision quickly cleared away with the downward swing of his Zanpakutō.

Like a Monarch emerging from its chrysalis, he shed his old self, emerged both old and new; same and not the same, and breathed his last and his first. 

As the pieces fell and crumbled away, his eyes, full of new purpose, locked onto Aizen’s form.

The truth no longer sealed.

A false god was calling to his humming blades.  
……  
The battlefield was still, a ceasefire created by stalemate.

Aizen sighed in mock disappointment.

The sound, like a gunshot, echoed. 

His syrupy gaze slid over the pitiful Shinigami and what was left of his pathetic Espada. 

“How very disappointing. It seems I once again placed my expectations too high. I had greater hopes for you, my Espada,” he looked down his nose at them with a sneer of false exasperation, “and you, Soutaicho-san, I had hoped you would take my cause seriously, be able to gauge just how much of a threat you were truly facing,” he mocked.

He received cries of indignation and anger. 

“No matter, I grow tired of this game. When you hold the power of a magnifying glass in hand, eventually watching ants burn under its light becomes tiresome.”

He supposed, if you want something done, you must do it yourself— He moved to draw his blade— Oh, and he would.  
…

On the other side, there were none dead, but many heavily wounded.

Matsumoto and Momo were in critical condition and Hiyori had a ghastly wound on her head.

Soifon had lost an arm to the late Segunda Espada.

Ukitake was exhausted, using Shuunsui as a pillar of support.

Everyone was panting. Tired. Running out of options.

The return of the Visored had been a surprising turnaround for the few minutes it lasted. 

They were praying for a miracle.

One with orange hair and a sword that lit up the heavens.

They just had to keep Aizen occupied until then.  
…

The Soutaicho was hesitant to release his Zanpakutō. 

His troops were heavily exhausted and even with their normal levels of Reiyoku, standing up to his enormous Reiatsu was a feat of impossibility for almost everyone. His students Ukitake and Shuunsui would stand the greatest chance. As would most of the Visored Taicho. But not the others.

He was sure the seals holding the Fake Karakura-cho in place would not be able to withstand such a force either.

He had known going into this battle that he would very likely need to step in. They, even he, did not know how powerful Aizen had become.

Most perplexing was that no one was able to feel much Reiatsu from Aizen. He could not be sure if Aizen had sealed his power enough that no one could properly read it, or if this was because of some yet unknown reason. He believed Aizen was a man who hid nothing. He would use his power to intimidate, but the man did nothing.

He dared not contemplate if Aizen was simply so powerful he was becoming unreachable. He, himself had to seal his power to a level able to be felt by others. His full might had the ability to crush souls too weak to withstand the force. 

Their chances were spreading thinner every moment Aizen was allowed to grow stronger. For the Hogyoku to grow stronger.

He had known he would once again draw Ryuujin Jakka. May have to release him.

It was the last thing he wanted to do.

But, it was time.  
…

Surveying the damage on both sides, the Soutaicho let out a gust of a sigh.

Aizen had quite the mouth on him. He was a chatty brat and his troops, already spread thin, were easily rankled by his callous words.

He began to steam, his Reiatsu climbing.

The air became hot. The moisture sucked from the air from the intense heat.

His army made to retreat, not needing any orders to know they must not get in his way.

“Reduce all creation to ash!” He yelled powerfully. 

Aizen shooed Gin away and his lips twitched in true pleasure.

All according to plan.  
…

“Wait Soutaicho-san!” Urahara Kisuke yelled frantically.

He and Yoruichi burst onto the scene.

A fully charged Shiba Isshin keeping pace beside them.

Unhearing. He was determined to destroy the threat before him.

“Ryuujin Ja…”

He was cut off by an explosion of Reiatsu and a boom that shook the ground and rattled the buildings around them.

The Reiatsu was so intense it extinguished what flames had begun around him and smothered his own Reiatsu.

Never in his 2000 years had another being overcome him. Close, yes. 

This was not close. Not by a long shot. 

This power was something immeasurable.  
…

No one had made it far, there was no time between the rise of Soutaicho’s Reiatsu and the man’s release phrase.

Everyone was frozen by the sheer magnitude of pressure and power crushing them.

It lasted but a moment, but the air had been knocked from their startled lungs, they were driven to their battered knees.

Espada and Shinigami alike. No one was spared, bar Aizen and Soutaicho, who managed to remain standing.

They saw a shadow through the haze. A Zanpakutō dispersed the cloud in a swift swipe.

The group spun violently to face yet another unexpected arrival.

A stunned silence followed.

The quiet was shattered by a melodious, husky voice.

“I hope we’re not too late?”

A startled Unohana shot out from behind him. Ignoring the noticeable changes in the man, quickly assessing and hastening to where she was needed most.

They could not feel an ounce of Reiatsu from the man. 

Where had the tsunami of power gone?

They couldn’t feel his Reiyoku at all, it was like he wasn’t even there.

But he was there before their eyes.  
…

“Yo,” Ichigo said in his customary devil-may-care way.

He was older looking. More mature. His eyes were sharp and calculating. A burning ochre. His hair fell shaggily into his eyes and brushed longer down his neck.

His shihakusho and Zanpakutô were similar, but altogether different. The sleeves were torn off at the shoulders leaving ragged edges, his arms bared. His garb was open at the chest, exposing hard muscle. His hands were concealed by a black finger-less gloves.

His Zanpakutô was of the darkest night. Completely sleek and liquid black. It gleamed long and deadly sharp parallel to his side. The cross guard was in the shape of a large Buddhist Manji. The hilt was wrapped in black ribbon and from the tip hung a line of black chain links.

“Kurosaki Ichigo.” 

Though the most prominent voice was the Soutaicho, his voice heavy with surprise and eyebrows climbing, everyone was shouting or saying his name at the same time. In happiness, relief, surprise, and disbelief.

Seemingly hearing none of them, the one Ichigo addressed was Aizen.

He had been facing the man and had locked eyes with him unflinchingly. His voice was calm and almost apathetic as he said, “Aizen Sousuke.”

Aizen had recovered somewhat from his rare shock. The boy was completely different than when he had last saw him not a few hours before. 

He was older, taller. His Zanpakutō a mystery to him as well as the drastic change in appearance and the curious lack of any spiritual power. 

He did not like surprises.  
…

Ichigo quickly surveyed the damage and categorized the wounded.

He felt a smoldering burn of anger that things had become this way. He is saddened by what Aizen has become, how he has let his Zanpakutō become his wielder. He loathes the Hogyoku and its corrupting power. 

Ichigo’s heart was tearing with pain, knowing that before things could be made right, he must save Aizen. 

That is what he hated the most. 

Because in order to save him, he must first destroy him.  
…

“You are not the same reckless boy who invaded my palace and made a mess of my Espada are you? No, I am quite certain you may indeed be Kurosaki Ichigo but you have evolved, or devolved,” Aizen said self-assured. He was smug. 

“You could say that. I’ve done quite a bit of growing since last we met. You could say I am not even the same person. The funny thing about dying a few times, Aizen, is that you learn things you could otherwise never fathom.”

Ichigo had indeed grown. Evolved. He had grown and evolved so much more than Aizen could guess at. He thought everything was going his way, all according to plan. This couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Ichigo had learned many things in his time in Hueco Mundo. He had been able to become closer with his Hollow, Shiro, and been able to converse at length with Zangetsu. His battles gave him an opportunity to learn and evolve as well. It was dying that first time, by Ulquiorra’s hand, which made the biggest difference. 

He died— The time he was dead in the real world couldn’t have been more than an hour, but his time within his inner world was easily over a week long. Time worked very differently in there. And Ichigo had always excelled at pulling excessive amounts of power and progress out of his ass under stress and under time crunches.

That week gave him everything.

From Zangetsu and Shiro Zangetsu he learned the truth of his conception and his heritage. He learned of all Aizen’s schemes, he learned just how many people Aizen had screwed over or killed. He was appalled and angry. He became even more motivated to put a stop to Aizen.

He bonded with his Zanpakutō. Both halves of his soul coming together with him in harmony. 

He unlocked his true Zanpakutō. He unleashed his true power. He was human and Quincy, he was Hollow and Shinigami, he was Shiba Kurosaki Ichigo and he was Zangetsu.  
When he returned to being alive, he kept all of this secret. He had his Zanpakutō keep his powers sealed away, and his appearance stayed as it was. He didn’t want Aizen to find out what had happened. 

“I can’t say I have ever had the experience,” Aizen said sarcastically. 

“I have no wish to grant you the experience either,” Ichigo intoned patiently.

“Oh? But you wish to put a stop to me do you not?” He asked in feigned curiosity. “How do you propose to do so without killing me? Because I can assure you, I will not hesitate to wipe you from existence if you continue to get in my way, boy.” He finished with a narrowing of his eyes.

“I don’t need to kill you Aizen, I need to kill who you are.”

He looked deeply into Aizen’s unfeeling eyes. He masked the hurt on his own face. He had to look away.

“I know about you Aizen. I know what you have done, who you have done it to, and I know why you think you are doing it. But I do not know you,” he said seriously, “to truly know a man like you, one must cross blades. Only then will our souls truly reach each other.”  
…

Aizen was slightly unnerved by the boy’s new attitude. He seemed to have aged hundreds of years. He was intense in his speech and firm in his resolve. More developments he had not accounted for. The boy was too much of a wild card. He needed to end this quickly. While he was somewhat curious about these developments, he would have plenty of time to examine them later when the boy had been taken care of.

…

Ichimaru Gin felt as if the weight he had been carrying for the last century had fallen from his shoulders.

Kurosaki Ichigo, or he should say, Shiba Ichigo was a remarkable boy— man now— he was what Gin needed him to be.

Because while Gin had plans upon plans to take out Aizen, he knew he was no match for the wannabe god. He never would be. He had doubted anyone would be strong enough to best Aizen Sousuke, and then the boy appeared. 

He was like a gift hand delivered by fate to stop this madman. He watched the boy grow and grow in power. But the boy had been soft, his resolve there but shaky.

He needed the boy to be unflinching. Needed him to be prepared to do whatever it took to stop his ‘boss.’

He had seen this through till now. 

He would see this through to the end. Whatever that entailed.  
…

The Soutaicho observed the boy turned man. This was not a human posing as a Shinigami. This was not a child pretending to be a man.

This was a Shinigami. More than a Shinigami. 

This was a man. Not a young man, but one who was wise.

He was unsure how this had come to pass, but he was less inclined to give a damn because the boy was fighting for them. He had no obligation to, and yet here he was when they most needed him.

He could respect that. He could respect the boy’s passion and will. His courage and honesty and fire were what Soul Society needed. Perhaps what they all needed.  
Yamamoto was old. He was wise and experienced. And he was also flawed, and he made mistakes, just as any other.

But he could see promise and potential. 

He could see it coiled up within the boy. 

The boy was hiding more. Just a Aizen was concealing himself, so was Kurosaki.  
…

Urahara didn’t think he could open his eyes any wider.

He tried though, because he still wasn’t sure if he was seeing reality or a mass hallucination. 

His student. His pupil and friend. Possibly pseudo-son, was magnificent. He was shocked at the transformation. He almost didn’t believe it was Ichigo at all. But there was no mistaking that hair, those burning eyes, that unshakable jaw. The Reiatsu signature left behind from the explosion couldn’t be any one else’s but his. 

But he couldn’t feel anything from the boy now. This worried him. But Ichigo seemed confident and he was inclined to trust the boy’s judgement. 

Aizen’s power was ascending to levels so high he could tell that only a select few could feel them. Most probably believed this was because Aizen had masked or sealed it, but this was not the case. The fact of the matter was: Aizen’s power was becoming so great that it was incomprehensible to those weaker than him. 

The ones who could sense him were the ones truly worrying. They knew what they were really up against. And they were justifiably terrified at their prospects.

He could only hope that this was the same case with Kurosaki.  
…

He could not feel his boy.

It was only a reassuring look from Kisuke that kept him from shunpoing straight up there to Ichigo.

He could hardly feel anything from Aizen, and he knew this was a very bad thing.

His boy had become a man when he wasn’t looking. He had to violently repress his tears of both joy and sadness. 

Both he and Urahara grew dark-faced when they heard Ichigo say he had ‘died.’ He had never wanted this for his child. For any of his children. They deserved the chance to be just that: children. But his Ichigo had always been different. He refused to be a childish after his mother’s death. He took on so much responsibility. Part of this was his own fault. He had never blamed his son, but he had been a wreck when Masaki passed. He hadn’t properly cared for his children then.  
But Ichigo had. 

He had hoped to tell his son one day of his heritage. But that day came sooner than he wished, or even thought it would.

Kisuke had remonstrated him again and again for keeping his son in the dark. And then again when he still reused to tell him anything after he became a Shinigami. 

Looking at his boy now, though, he had a feeling it was already too late for him to say anything first. 

Ichigo looked so mature and grounded. More than he ever had. He looked comfortable in his own skin. He had a lightness to him that wasn’t there before. 

When Ichigo said he knew about everything Aizen had done, Ichigo had glanced at him, and he knew.

He knew that somehow, someway Ichigo had found out the truth. 

His son had obviously accepted and embraced it. 

But that didn’t mean Isshin was in the clear.

No, he expected to be sore and bruised in the near future; he expected to be making up for this transgression for a long time coming.  
…

Shinji was dumbfounded. 

He probably looked it too. He caught himself with his jaw hanging unattractively. 

He had made much the same observations as he was sure Kisuke and Isshin had. 

All he could say was: he was beyond proud.

He hadn’t known Ichigo long, but the kid had wormed his way into Shinji’s heart and into the hearts of the other Visored. And he hadn’t even had to try. He was just Ichigo.

He supposed that statement could sum up many things when it came to the boy.

He was an impossibility. He made the impossible possible. He shattered everyone’s expectations time and again. 

You should never underestimate Ichigo. And if you overestimate Ichigo the boy is certain break that limit as well.

Why?

Because he was Ichigo.

Enough said.  
… 

Aizen stared at the boy incredulously.

“Kurosaki Ichigo.” 

The boy was staring at him intently and he could feel a cold sweat start to run down his back despite himself.

“If you are indeed Kurosaki, then I am disappointed.” Aizen said in fake disappointment.

“Oh?”

“I can feel nothing from you. Not even your Reiyoku. You say you have grown, but you have devolved. Have you become so desperate that you have given up your powers for physical strength? You will never defeat me now.”

“You know nothing Aizen. And what you think you know is only a distorted reflection of the truth.”

“You think you are a match for me, Ryoka boy? I very much doubt that,” he said with a sneer, “However, if you are so eager to die again, by my blade, then who am I to deny your  
last request.” 

Aizen began to draw his blade.

“No! Kurosaki don’t look at his blade!” Hitsugaya nearly shrieked in panic.

Others rushed forward with the same purpose: to protect the boy from being drawn in by the man’s illusions as they had.

What happened next could only be described as complete pandemonium. 

Everyone rushed forward and Aizen met them. 

Hitsugaya and Hiyori rushed him at the same time.

Komamura was cut down with little effort. 

Soifon kept missing, her aim seemingly always a little bit too off. She was stopped when Aizen drove his sword through her stomach and let her own body weight drag her off the blade.

Hitsugaya finally got him. He ran the taller man through when his back was turned. 

But that is not what happened.  
…

Ichigo knew what Aizen’s Zanpakutō did. He knew what it was capable of. He probably knew the blade better than anyone here, including Aizen himself. 

This was because, long ago, Ichigo had helped the man to forge it. He had helped the man master it. He had named the blade. 

As he was now, he was immune to the blade’s hallucinogenic properties. It would have no effect on him.

So when the man moved to draw his blade, he had moved to do the same.

He had not thought those gathered would try to aid him so fiercely.

“Silly King. I keep tellin’ ya that ya are oblivious to people carin’ bout ya,” Shiro commented about his previous thought. This was something Shiro kept telling him, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now.

He could not get a word in. He could not tell them that he had this under control. They would not hear him. 

He could see the gossamer haze invisible to all but he and Sousuke. Kyoka Suigetsu’s mist of influence.

It was a massacre. Aizen moved quickly.

Their senses were horribly off, and he watched Soifon strike empty air and Komamura fight a phantom image. 

He saw Hitsugaya ready an attack from behind the man’s unguarded back. 

He moved but Aizen had expected it. 

He got a close and personal view of Toshiro’s face when he realized he had just skewered Momo and not his intended target. 

The look of anguish on the tiny Taicho’s face ripped at his heart so fiercely he lost his breath. He keenly felt his agony and emotional pain.

And he felt the sickening, stomach turning triumph coming from where he had crossed blades with Aizen. He had been blocked in his efforts to aid the ice wielder. 

But while he could feel Aizen, he could see that Aizen could not sense him through the connection of their blades. His soul cried even further at this unknowing rejection.

His face must have twisted a bit with the overwhelming feeling of heartache he was feeling because Aizen jolted back as if shocked. 

Everyone jumped back, making space between them and the enemy.

Ichigo’s voice was tremulous and he could hear the emotions leaking their way into his tone, he screamed at them as much as directly at Aizen, “What the hell are you doing!?”

They all paused to look at him.

They gazed at him with open shock on their features, confusion. At his tone, at his admonishment; those closest were startled to realize he was there in front of them. Whether this was because of the speed he had used to intercept Aizen or if it was because he had been absent from their senses until then he didn’t know. 

“Kurosaki-san…” Shinji began, but Ichigo cut him off.

“No.” He said firmly. “The time for hate and anger is not now,” he said not unkindly, “I have no wish to deny any of you your chance at retribution. However, this is no place for it, and I was serious when I said I wished to cross his blade.” He paused and asked sincerely, “Please, allow me the honor of fighting in your stead this once.”

“It is not that we do not believe in you Kurosaki or that we care if ya take the winning swing at tha bastard. We simply wish to give you the best opportunity to do so,” he looked Ichigo in the eye apologetically, “We got a bit carried away, but ya have ta understand, if ya see his Shikai you’ll be as blind as the rest of us.”

Shuunsui and Ukitake nodded in agreement. 

“I appreciate all of your help and your concerns,” Ichigo smiled softly, “though you may not yet understand it, I am the one who has to do this. I say this not in arrogance or self-righteousness but speak of an unavoidable truth,” he finished with a sad smile on his face.

Urahara frowned, “…Ichigo, you are certain you know what you are doing and of the consequences?”

Ichigo nodded.

Urahara seemed to accept his answer but continued to look at him in concern and curiosity; like he was trying to figure out what made Ichigo tick.

Aizen, having grown annoyed at all the pointless banter, finally interrupted any further conversation, “Well, now that we have reestablished the fact that your efforts are an exercise in futility,” he looked at them with disdain, “Kurosaki Ichigo, I hope you are prepared to face the consequences should you fall to my blade,” his face became stone, eyes shining with dreadful promise. “Should you fail, know that I will kill every last Shinigami you know, every last friend you think you’ve gained, I will seek out the pitiful human scum you associate with and kill them slowly. And then I will make you watch as you are helpless to do anything as I disembowel your family in front of you.”

The looks of utter revulsion on the faces around him did not draw his attention away from the man in front of him.

He had been taken aback by the gruesome images and the hot stinging nausea that overcame him upon seeing and feeling Aizen’s twisted pleasure accompanying his words.  
He knew he had flinched violently. This was driven home by the absolute look of triumph that came over Aizen’s face. He obviously believed his words had the desired effect.

Everyone seemed even less eager to allow him to face the man now, but he needed only glance at them and they back off reluctantly. 

“Let’s finish this Aizen.” He said stoically.

A look of displeasure crossed the man’s face, he wasn’t as easy to ruffle anymore.

He made no verbal reply. The man drew his sword as Ichigo raised his, after a slight pause, they leapt sword first towards the other.  
…

He was fast. Almost too fast for Aizen to keep up with. Certainly, they were moving at speeds too fast for anyone else to track, bar maybe the Soutaicho.

His swings had enormous power behind them. He had to brace his sword arm. How distasteful.

“Moon in the water, lotus petal bloom a mirror; anguish in power, power is absolute. Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu.”  
…

Aizen was so strong. But he was weaker than he should be. He was even weaker than Ichigo thought he would be.

No doubt Aizen was the most powerful man here.

But his power was necrotizing. 

Even as that cursed stone gave him more and more power, changed him into something more than Shinigami and Hollow, it was consuming his true power. Replacing it with its own. 

If allowed to continue, what was left would be something beyond monstrous. Grotesque. 

Neither of them was gaining ground. Their power matching, their swords clanged and clashed in showers of sparks. 

The others had moved further back, giving them a wide berth. 

Their swings were unleashing small waves of cast-off pressure from the sheer force of their swings. His sword glowing with azure Reiatsu.

Aizen released his Zanpakutô then. The man was getting frustrated. He couldn’t understand why a child was on par with himself.

The release command was all wrong, Ichigo thought. The words twisted around in their meaning. He could feel the sword’s malice and loneliness. So lonely. He could weep with the Zanpakutô.

Even as it rebelled against losing, as it sought to conquer creation, it wept with sorrow. 

Kyoka Suigetsu believed it was truly helping its master, giving him what he truly desired. It sealed away that which hurt its master and kept him from seeing a reality which would destroy him further. It would make its master’s reality, reality. No matter the cost.

He could read all this as Aizen’s blade met with his own. Coursing up through Zangetsu and into himself.

Aizen’s Zanpakutô crumbled away theatrically. His Shikai was active. 

He could see some of the Taicho shifting in disconcertion in his periphery, but he paid them no mind. There was no time to explain to them that seeing the man’s Shikai was not going to be an issue.

“Kurosaki Ichigo. You are now under the influence of my Zanpakutô. How unfortunate,” He mocked. “This will be your end, boy, you have no hope of stopping me now.”  
Ichigo looked straight into the man’s eyes, his face a mask of indifference. 

He took a page from Shiro’s book.

“Well, since ya showed me yours. I guess I’ll show you mine,” he sighed.

“Even if you use Shikai, nay, even if you come at me with your Bankai it will not make a bit of difference. You forget I have a Bankai as well, one which only myself has ever seen. 

Despair at your failure to grow powerful enough to even SCRATCH my person,” he stated arrogantly. 

“You’re wrong Aizen,” he sounded so sure and firm. His gaze sharpened and burning with a cool fire.

He held Zangestu loosely in hand, arm stretched out fully to his right. 

The air became thick with pressure. Still nothing could be felt from him, and his audience was engrossed in anticipation as much as confusion. 

“Look Ahead, Go Forward, Never Stop! To retreat is to age! To hesitate is to die! Respect, Honor, Protect. Cleave the heavens asunder! Zangetsu."  
…

Though it was day, his Reiatsu exploded outward in an ocean of darkness.

When he emerged, his appearance had not changed greatly. There was a chain around his right arm from wrist to shoulder, and his blade had shifted from completely straight-edged to slightly serrated, looking even deadlier than before.

Whereas before some of the Taicho could sense a sliver of power from him, now it was gone completely. 

Aizen noticed, “How disappointing that you have indeed failed to evolve. Kurosaki Ichigo, have you traded your power for mere physical might? I can feel absolutely nothing from you. You may as well be a human,” he said in mocked pity.

But Ichigo said nothing. He charged.

Aizen quickly materialized his Zanpakutô’s form, he barely had time to block the massive downward swing of his blade.

The force blew a shockwave through the battleground, all of the glass blew out in the windows around them creating a rain of shards.

He could see the widening of Aizen’s eyes, then the pure anger that lit them shortly after. 

Aizen had been toying with him before, but now he was finally taking Ichigo seriously. 

The real battle was about to begin.  
…

Urahara tried to follow the fight with his eyes and then when that failed, he tried to follow Aizen’s Reiatsu signature. 

But these two were far above the rest of them. They were on another level. Only a wisp could be felt from Aizen now, and even with Ichigo’s Shikai his Reiatsu was still completely absent. 

From a quick survey, he could see that everyone was just as confused as the rest and were beginning to show signs of genuine concern. Whether this was because they feared for Ichigo or they feared Aizen’s victory varied. 

Glancing at Isshin he could see the man visibly sweating and the look on his face seemed to be one of dawning recognition.

“Isshin-san, you know what is transpiring?” It was a question, but it was said as a statement, because he had no doubt the man had figured something out just then.  
Isshin paled and turned to his friend.

“It is a last resort, something I was willing to help Ichigo achieve only when we were out of hope. It is a final measure, one my Engetsu has as well. Our Zanpakutô will not give it up easily because…” he swallowed thickly.

“What Isshin, what is it?”

“The Saigo no Getsuga Tensho,” he said gravely. 

He explained to a horrified Kisuke that once learning the technique, the user’s Reiatsu is internalized and what is left is raw physical power. It is a step before the user merges with the Zanpakutô in order to make one final attack. 

The attack expels almost all of the user’s Reiatsu. After, their Shinigami powers fade away.

“When Aizen mentioned Ichigo’s lack of Reiatsu and his apparent gain in physical prowess, I remembered,” he said sadly, “He has somehow managed to learn on his own and gotten his Zanpakutô to teach it to him.

I am so proud of him. But I am furious at myself and everyone here for making him choose this path,” Isshin finished roughly.  
…

Urahara was dumbfounded. 

Surely not. 

Could he have been wrong?

Did Ichigo think Aizen so unbeatable, he was willing to sacrifice everything?

He had no doubt the stubborn boy would take a chance like this in a heartbeat if it meant protecting those he loved. 

But, while Isshin’s explanation made sense, and was surely a viable possibility, he kept getting this feeling.

It was a gut feeling, instinctual. He had a feeling that something bigger was happening here. 

…

They clashed and clashed again. They were traveling at unheard of speeds. He was wielding power equivalent to a level beyond the Soutaicho. He was wielding the power of a man becoming a god.

And yet this boy could match him!

What infuriated him the most, what had him grinding his teeth and barely keeping a lid on his need to growl in anger, was the LOOK the boy kept giving him. 

Those damn eyes never left his. 

He hated those fiery orbs, he hated their color, he hated their passion, he hated that he hated them.

He longed to see the light drain from them as he looked deep into them. 

Those eyes made him feel things he didn’t want to examine. Those eyes made him hurt and feel guilt he knew he shouldn’t feel. 

Oh, and the look in the boy’s eyes right now…

He growled out, “Don’t look at me with those eyes, Kurosaki Ichigo. Don’t you dare to gaze at me in pity.  
I don’t need pity! Least of all from a gnat such as yourself! I will cut those eyes from your skull, from your cold corpse,” he said viciously.  
…

Shinji was taken aback at the vitriol spewing from the normally put together man. 

Ichigo was getting to him.

He wasn’t quite sure why Ichigo would pity a man such as Aizen Sousuke, but he wasn’t going to question it at the moment.

Aizen was taking it personally. He was getting angry and vicious. 

That meant he could become less coordinated, he would become sloppy, his attacks weaker.

He grinned widely.

…

Ichigo continued to beat the man back. 

Killing the man would be no small feat. 

But he could. If he so chose.

Killing Aizen Sousuke was not what he wanted to do though. He had no intention of killing the man before him. 

No, he was going to kill the man he had become. He was going to purge him of the poison unknowingly choking him. 

This was a feat he knew would be next to impossible. Aizen would not stop unless he was made to. Doing so without killing him would not be possible for anyone else.  
The man was simply too strong.

He could feel the man’s blade and every physical blow was like a stab to his heart. His body was radiating in emotional pain. His heart bleeding.

Aizen thought his look was of pity. 

He did not pity Sousuke. He pitied the lonely, desperate man he had become.

Ichigo had said earlier that the only way for him to truly understand Aizen was to cross blades with him. 

Crossing blades, staring into the man’s hateful eyes.

Ichigo understood. 

His feelings did not reach Aizen, but someone had reached out to him.

…

He couldn’t understand why his Kyoka Suigetsu had no effect on the boy. Even more so because the boy had no Reiatsu to speak of; meaning that he could not use overwhelming Reiatsu to free himself from its power, not like Soutaicho might be able. 

Any clone of himself was ignored. Noises went unheard. The boy continued to find him. All of his strokes landed, and through it all, he never took his eyes off of Aizen.  
He prided himself of always being several steps ahead. Of thinking of all the possibilities, he was never caught unawares. But this boy, this PEST, continued to baffle him. 

And Aizen was not one to be made a fool of.

Breathing harshly in anger and exertion he leapt back, putting some space between them.

He swung his free arm out in an uncharacteristic gesture of pure frustration, “Do you hope to understand me Kurosaki Ichigo?” Aizen questioned harshly. 

“You could never understand. I have always been above those around me,” he stated with narrowed eyes. 

“I have been destined to sit in the heavens. This world is corrupt, rotting. But I will see to it that the weeds are chocked. I will cut out the molding, putrid rot.”  
He spit the words out as if they tasted foul.

“You could never hope to understand my purpose,” he said with teeth clenched.

He straightened and began to laugh raggedly. 

“I will show you how little you understand. Be honored, Kurosaki. No one has ever seen my Bankai.”

He lips formed the word.  
…

Everyone jumped in alarm. 

They had to stop him. They had to do something. 

Certainly, the boy, their Ichigo was amazing. He was incredible, a miracle.

But he would have no hope of standing up to a Bankai of Aizen’s magnitude. 

Uncertain as they were as to why the man’s Shikai seemed to have no effect on the orangette, this would surely not be the case with the man’s Bankai.

Most of them still had their Zanpakutō unsealed. Those that didn’t quickly unsealed them.

They sped towards the tyrant, hellbent on putting a stop to whatever the man was bringing out.

…

Urahara unsealed Benihime, Isshin doing the same with Engetsu. 

Shinji adjacent to them, unsealed his Sakanade again. 

They were pale and covered in a cold sweat. 

They had no way to prepare for this.

They had no way of knowing just what they were about to face.

But they were damn well not going to stand around while THEIR ICHIGO was in need. 

They would die first.

…

It was an effort made in vain. 

…

The second Aizen’s lips formed the word, Ichigo spoke the phrase as well.

“Bankai!”

The world went silent for a moment before erupting in a deafening boom. The sound and release of Reiatsu equivalent to an atom bomb detonating. 

Ichigo’s black Reiatsu swirled with Aizen’s pale blue, the blast destroying every building left standing in the city. The Shinigami who had rushed forward to help were blown back violently and pressed to the ground under the onslaught. 

The injured had been protected by Unohana and a sweating Hachi, their barrier cracked and fractured. The Soutaicho had thrown up the highest level of Kido barrier he could muster. He was pushed back by the violent force and struggled to press back against it.

The Reiatsu was too much for the Fukutaicho, they passed out under the immense pressure. 

Ukitake struggled to gain his breath back from beside a fretting Shuunsui. The two of them managing to combine a shield with the dome of Hollow Reiatsu Starrk had thrown up from next to them. 

The Primera was wide awake now.

Everyone left conscious sat up or crawled out of debris. They scrambled to find their Zanpakutô and turned to the epicenter, where the two within were still obscured by Reiatsu, smoke, and dust.

This time, no one, not any of them, could feel any Reiyoku from them. They saw the Reiatsu in the air but could not read it. 

…

The screen shielding the men from sight began to clear.

What was revealed was a shock to all, for many reasons.

The first being Ichigo’s appearance.

It had hardly changed. They remembered his original Bankai had not shown much change in appearance as well, but there had been one. 

Ichigo appeared the same. With the exception of the loss of the chain on his arm and the addition of black, x-shaped tattoos criss-crossing their way up his arms, that was it. It  
was baffling.

Second was his Zanpakutô. There were two. TWO.

He now wielded a pair. 

There were only two Shinigami in history with a pair release. Ukitake and Shuunsui.

The two men in question were visibly shocked. But then their eyes crinkled, and they chuckled lightly in amusement. 

‘Only Ichigo,’ they thought.

The blades’ appearance was bizarre to boot. Their shapes unique.

In his right hand was an onyx black Khyber blade, it flowed as one mesh piece from handle to tip. A portion was excised from the center. In the left, a smaller trench knife. Having no discernable handle, he grasped it through a small hollow big enough for a hand in its place.

They looked sleek and just this side of wild. It suited the flame hair man.

And then there was Aizen.

His white dress remained the same. His hair was another story. 

The hairline on his forehead was unchanged, that one strand still falling across his face, the hair otherwise swept back. But it was long.  
His brown locks fell in a wave down to his hips. 

His eyes were another thing. 

Where his eyes had been, there were two orbs almost completely white in color. They swirled with an eerie pale blue cloudiness. 

They felt a chill run down their backs at the sight. 

His Zanpakutō once again, remained in the same shape it seemed to always take.

Rather unnervingly, the two men stood there staring at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. Neither saying a word. Their faces a mask of blankness.

And then they struck once more.

…

Their swings were casting off even more force than before. They were reshaping the landscape.

The pillars holding the fake Karakura in place were all damaged. Before they had begun there had been only three left. These three were crumbling. 

If the battle went on much longer, they risked destroying them completely and bringing the real Karakura back, with all of its occupants along for the ride.

…

They were moving too fast for any too follow. Their power ascended above those below them. Locked in fierce combat, neither spoke. They spoke through their blades.

Aizen despite being even more powerful, was feeling strain. He was getting shallow cuts and he was tiring, while the boy was good as new. 

He came at him so intensely, Aizen could hardly keep up. He was on defense almost from the start. And even staring directly into the boy’s eyes, his Bankai appeared to do absolutely nothing. 

His cloudy gaze was meant to trap the one in its sights inside their own head. Anything inside feeling completely real to their five senses. Their body outside frozen, as their mind was assaulted by their worst fears and their most frightening memories. 

But the boy was not falling to his gaze. Not showing any signs of being affected whatsoever.

While he feels this should make him even more infuriated, he isn’t.

He feels a cold calmness at the moment, his reason and judgment clearing slightly from the haze of rage before.

And while he should feel fear or concern at the power the boy displayed, he instead was curious. 

He had never met another who could match him. 

He had a tiny, almost dismissible, feeling of rightness. 

He was losing sight of why he was doing this. What was his purpose?

He shook himself forcefully, banishing such weak thoughts.

He was Aizen Sousuke. He was a God. NO ONE could measure up to him; no one was going to stop him.

…

“Isshin. Yoruichi. Are you alright?” Urahara ask seriously. His voice a bit winded from the amount of Reiatsu he had had to use to shield them.  
Dispelling the barrier, he looked around quickly, taking stock of the Shinigami around him. 

No one dead that he could tell. There were some signatures that were dangerously weak, but those were most likely Matsumoto and Hinamori-san’s.  
Focusing back on the previously addressed, he was somewhat tickled to see the open look of pure dumbfoundedness on Isshin’s face. He wished he had his fan to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face.

“Well it seems everyone is in one piece,” he said lightly. 

Isshin turned to stare at him incredulously. He couldn’t seem to form words at the moment. 

“I agree Isshin. It seems you may have been slightly off the mark on this one,” he rubbed his scruff wearily, all humor vanishing.

“If we applied your theory, then Ichigo would not have a Bankai. He would instead, as you said, gear up for a final attack. Also, Aizen has now become unreadable as well. I highly doubt he would use a technique as final as the one you mentioned. It stands to reason, with their Bankai release, the two of them have simply become too powerful for us, far weaker, to feel.”

The sounds of battle could be heard around them, but most heard what the scientist had uttered. 

“Preposterous.” Soifon scoffed out, coughing at the dust.

“That is quite the theory Urahara-san.” Shuunsui rubbed his chin in half-disbelief.

“Hmmm…” Soutaicho hummed, deep in thought. It was unclear if it was in agreement or disagreement. 

“Well I can believe it. 100% believe it. This is Kurosaki we’re talkin’ about. I know and you should all know, that ya can’t underestimate the kid,” Shinji shrugged.

“Baldy’s right! That berry-head has a habit a pullin’ this kinda crap outta his ass every other week. I don’t know why y’all are so surprised,” Hiyori said indignantly. 

Ukitake chuckled.

…

Ichigo had his blades crossed, blocking Aizen’s from cutting into his face.

He gazed into the man’s misty, opaque eyes.

“Getsuga Tensho,” he nearly whispered, and slashed the blades diagonally.

Two crescents of blood and darkness exploded outward. Their energy forming and X as they crossed over each other. What was left of the buildings in the radius of their fighting shuttered and crumbled to the ground. 

Aizen cut through the attack away with a slash of his hand. 

They stopped. Paused and observed each other. 

And then Ichigo addressed Aizen for the first time since they had uttered ‘Bankai.’ 

As usual, he dropped a bombshell.

…

“Aizen,” Ichigo began, “Sousuke,” he said softly.

His brows came together in sadness, his face which had been serious and emotionless while they fought, frowned.

“The very earth changes with the swing of your Zanpakutō. It trembles before your might, your power is great. However, you are willfully blinded. You prevent your own self from seeing the truth.”

The battlefield was completely silent. 

The two men having a silent stare down finally broke eye contact. 

Ichigo looked away from the man, eyes misty and filled with hurt. He had looked into the man’s eyes as they connected through blood and blades. The man was hollow and lonely. He was consumed by hate and loathing. His soul was blackening with poison from the Hogyoku and his mind was clouded by his own Zanpakutō. 

He had looked through the man’s eyes and into his very soul. 

He looked for the heart of the man. 

There was void.

…

His heart ached and burned with pain in his chest. 

He wanted to weep.

“Enough.” 

It was said so quietly and softly, but everyone heard it as if a bomb had gone off.

They looked up at the man before them. He looked so sad and tired. They could hear tears in his voice and they felt a twinge in their own hearts.

They were confused but rooted in place, trusting Ichigo to do what was best.

“Oh, Sousuke.” He began to weep bitter tears.

The man in question jolted back in surprise. The sight of the man’s tears confusing him and pulling indescribably at him.

“Who are you?”

Aizen looked at the man. He stiffed, spine straight. His sneer was full of malice as he talked down his nose at the man in front of him.

“I am Aizen Sousuke! I am the man who will stand above the heavens. I am the most powerful Shinigami in existence. THAT is who I am.”

It came out in a burst. He was supposed to be composed and put together, but this man was getting to him. He couldn’t understand it! He fought against any feelings building up in his chest.

“No...” Ichigo whispered. Looking lost he said as if to himself, “What are you?”

There were many becoming concerned for their friend. He was genuinely upset. They had no idea exactly why, but they desperately wanted to comfort the man.

“What is your objective, questioning me in this manner, Kurosaki Ichigo? If you are done with the theatrics…” Aizen said, cut off by Ichigo’s passionate exclamation.

“I ask only because you are my purpose. I have come here for you. But you are not you. I can’t even recognize you, Sousuke!”

“You are speaking nonsense. Perhaps I should cut out your tongue along with those eyes of yours. Then we will see which of us is ‘blind,’” he spoke cruelly.

He was getting angry, something he rarely felt. The boy continued burrowing under his skin and he couldn’t figure out how. He would silence the boy so that he wouldn’t have to listen to that voice any longer. 

That voice. 

“Cut it out then!” Ichigo yelled. “Cut it out if you can bare to.” 

He was crying hot tears. 

Aizen halted in raising his blade. He refused to lock eyes with the man again. Certain there was some trick there.

“You say I could never understand. But I have read your blade, I have read your soul, I have read your heart.” He spoke fiercely.

He closed his eyes, as if seeing in his minds eye what he spoke of.

“Today, when we crossed blades I looked into your soul, I looked into your heart,” his eyes flew open in anger, “And you didn’t have one! You are empty!”

“What are you talking about!”

“Your heart is a black hole. Swallowed, replaced by that damn poisonous orb you’ve got leaking filth all over your soul.”

Urahara started. What exactly was it that Ichigo could see? Could the Hogyoku, when housed in a living soul cause it to break down? 

“You’ve twisted yourself out of some need for companionship, but all you’ve gained is further isolation. You’ve become not a god of love, but a god of hate and contempt. You have allowed your Chaos to rule you. You’ve let your madness consume you whole.”

Aizen stood fixated on the man. The passion in his voice locking him where he stood.

“You have allowed your power to rule you. You have distorted its form and allowed it to cloud you. You’ve allowed it seal away the cause of your hurt and anger. Chaos has become your weapon.”

“Preposterous. My blade has no rule over me. There is nothing I wish to hide from. My sight is clear!” 

Aizen stated with confidence.

“Ichigo, you are saying he has been under the influence of his own Zanpakutō this entire time? I am not sure I can believe such a catch all theory. This man has been corrupting, killing, and manipulating for over a century. Every person here has been affected directly and indirectly because of that man’s machinations. Are you certain?”  
Urahara asked dead seriously.

“How are we supposed to accept that the man who did these things is not real? That he is a construct waiting to be shattered like his own weapon?” 

The Soutaicho hummed in agreement.

Ichigo didn’t answer the man. His sight fixed only on the being before him.

“It would be quite wonderful for all of you if this was true. But I know myself, I am who I am. What you see before you is what there is. I am not so foolish as to be blinded by my own power. As for the Hogyoku, well, all I can say is that shortly I will be even more powerful than all of you combined.” He chuckled condescendingly. 

“Is this all the product of your loneliness? Which came first? Does your power come from loneliness, or are you lonely because of your power?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, Kurosaki.” Aizen sneered.

“My blade,” he looked at Zangetsu, “can not reach you.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t remember, you don’t remember what you are, who you are. You no longer know what your purpose is. You say it is to purge the decay and poison from the World, but that has always been half of a lie you continue to tell yourself.”

“You know nothing, boy.” Aizen growled.

“I know everything, Aizen Sousuke.” He said this so fiercely everyone gave pause and really looked at him. 

Ichigo was serious. He believed in what he was saying. They were lost trying to follow the two, but truths were starting to surface. They need only watch and listen.

Aizen was take off guard by the boy’s answer. It unnerved him, what did the boy think he knew?

“Everything? I doubt that very much. But why don’t you enlighten me, enlighten us all,” he swept his hand out, motioning to their audience.

“As you wish,” he said sincerely. 

“The truth is this, Aizen. Years and years, Millenia ago you came into being. Long enough ago that you pre-date Unohana Retsu, who was already a few centuries old when the Gotei was formed.”

Retsu looked up, her eyes widening in slight surprise. She received quite a few shocked stares as well. Her true age was not a well-known fact.

“For as long as you can remember you have been more powerful than anyone around you, and you have been alone in your power.”

Aizen frowned, confused.

“You saw the death and decay around you and wished to repair the damage. You wanted peace and happiness for those around you. You had the power to do so.  
And then you met someone. Someone you loved. Someone who was at times equal and sometimes more powerful than yourself.  
All was well, until this person was taken from you.”

“I…” he made to interrupt.

Ichigo spoke louder, “you wished to continue on despite this, but you were alone again. You couldn’t bear the pain and loss. You became bitter and began to hate that which you wanted to protect. You took comfort in your power, molded and shaped by your lost beloved, and it shielded you.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“It began to cloud your mind. It thought keeping these things sealed away would help you. It gave you more and more power for your purpose. But sealing away the hurt and pain, sealing away your feelings, made you an ambitious, cruel man. You slowly lost sight of why you wanted what you did. You lost sight of others. You let your power become master over you and then you became master over everyone around you.”

The Soutaicho’s brows continued to rise.

“You gained the admiration and respect of those around you. A façade, to further your goals. But admiration is the furthest thing from understanding.” He said sadly. 

Hitsugaya let out a choked noise of incredulity. Those were the same words Aizen had said to him when he had confronted the man for ‘killing’ Hinamori.

“You did not belong. You gave up on finding true acceptance and decided instead to gain acceptance through fear and power. You experimented and betrayed those who had trusted you.”

He looked at the Visored. Shinji’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

“You did away with those who got in your way and played with the lives of others.”

He looked towards his dad and Urahara, he received a downcast look from the two men.

“You sought more and more power. The Hogyoku. An orb that gave you what you most desired. What you thought you desired,” he looked at the man’s chest.

Aizen was frozen with indecision. How did the boy know all of this? How did he know the Hogyoku was on him, in him? 

He did not understand most of the boy’s ramblings, though, his mind completely blank on what he was talking about.

Gin’s eyes widened. The boy was truly something. He didn’t know or care how the boy knew. The point was that he knew. This was the key to bringing the madman down.

“Its power and its very essence was poison for your soul. It fed on your corruption and hatred. Even as it seemed to give you everything you wanted: power, an army, a title, a kingdom; it drained your true power and replaced it with its own.”

Aizen’s eyes widened.

“When I first saw you today, I was surprised by the change. Very little of the power in your body is your own. The orb has eaten it away and given you what it could. But this is conditional. You do not know that if the Hogyoku deems you weaker than someone else, it will reject you. Drained of your own Reiyoku, you will die.”  
He informed everyone with a regretful voice.

Aizen opened his mouth in disbelief. 

Surely not!

“You lie!” Aizen spat.

“I have no reason to lie to you Aizen. You do enough lying to yourself.”

“How dare you!”

“You could have been so much greater. So much more powerful without the orb. Even greater still if you had accepted the pain and loss within yourself instead of hiding.”

“You speak nonsense, boy. I have nothing to hide! I have nothing to fear! No one is more powerful than myself!”

Ichigo smiled sadly. It was a knowing smile. 

“You didn’t come here to create an Ouken. You have no need for one.”

Soutaicho perked up.

Urahara jolted at the statement.

A red-herring?

“Yes, I know,” he said quietly, “you have no need for an Ouken because you do not need one should you wish to enter the Spirit King’s Realm.”

There were gasps of shock and exclamations of disbelief. 

Aizen was furious. How could this child know? No one knew!

Ichigo continued, “Your goal was to create an army strong enough to wipe itself out along with your enemy. No one would be left to contest or object to your rule. Karakura, the Ouken, kidnapping Inoue, all distractions and misleads. You made quite the believable plot, Aizen.”  
Ichigo paused, letting his words sink in. 

Aizen began, “You are correct, my parting words on that day were chosen specifically because I knew Urahara and Soutaicho would make that leap. They assumed I was after the Soul King. To kill him, take his place, or do away with the institution entirely. They then guessed that I would need an Ouken to obtain access to the King’s Realm. What better place to make it than Karakura.”

Eyes widened at the confirmation.

He paused. “I do have no need for an Ouken.”

Urahara’s eyes sharpened.

“There exists three Ouken, one in each of the three worlds, and I know where they are. I do not need to waste time and souls to make another.”

“Impossible! The location of the Ouken is known only to the Royal Guard. Not even I am granted access to its true resting place.” Soutaicho boomed.

“Hmm. That is true. The Guard know the locations because they are the ones charged with their protection. No one else has been TOLD the location. I, however, do not need to be told where the key is; because I am powerful enough to SENSE it.”

Urahara and Soutaicho frowned.

“The key gives off Reiatsu so immense that it cannot be felt by those weaker than itself. In the same way, none of you are able to sense my current power level.” Aizen said in fake mirth.

“What a load of shit!” Hiyori scoffed.

“I can sense the Ouken, this is a fact. But that is not all. I have no use for ANY Ouken. As Kurosaki guessed, I have already been to the King’s Realm, and I did not need an Ouken to achieve access.”

Gin started. He had not been told. Gin was his second in command, he knew ALL of Aizen’s plans. He knew that the Ouken and Karakura was a red herring. He knew that Aizen was planning to do away with the Spirit King. To what end he didn’t know, but when had Aizen made this move?

“Preposterous!” Soutaicho exclaimed.

“Whether or not you choose to believe what I tell you is of no consequence to me. I discovered long ago that the current Spirit King was merely a placeholder. His immense Reiyoku normally forms barriers around the Three Worlds, this keeps them from spilling into one another. But the Spirit King was no longer there. Instead, an object is in its place. An orb which is guarded by the Royal Guard or Division Zero.”

“What you speak of is blasphemous, Aizen Sousuke!” 

“No, Aizen is for the most part, correct in this.” Ichigo said calmly.

The Soutaicho’s eyebrows were high on his head in disbelief.

“I know this because I have been to the Spirit King’s Realm. I have seen it.” Aizen said triumphantly.

There was an abundance of gasps. Horrified and in disbelief they began to realize the futility of their efforts.

“Yes, I have been there. Years before I established a base in Hueco Mundo, I also made a visit to the Palace.”

Gin twitched. That meant Aizen was powerful enough to gain access to the Royal Palace and the King’s Realm, WITHOUT an Ouken, over a hundred years ago. Gin started to sweat. He had no chance of taking on a being of that magnitude. He had severely miscalculated his own chances. He could only hope the kid could handle this.

“I was surprised to see that the so-called King was not a King, but an artifact. Never the less, while I could have killed the Guard, the whole Division, easily, the Orb was different. Its Reiatsu could not be felt by the Guard it was so immense, and even I was unable to sense it. If I had made to touch it, I would have been instantly erased from reality.”

“Pity.” Hitsugaya murmured.

Ignoring the jib, Aizen continued, “I knew one day I would be able to gain access to its power, and that day is near,” He grinned.

“That orb has the power to shape and reshape the Three Worlds, it has the power of life and death. In the hands of someone powerful enough to touch it, the Worlds would be theirs.”

Urahara’s eyes widened in dawning horror. The ruse they fell for was merely a chance for Aizen to continue to grow in power! Now the man had a fully evolved, whole, Hogyoku, and was reaching the final stage of his evolution.

“So, you’ve been there,” Ichigo said quietly. 

“Well, it seems you know much more than I thought possible, Ryoka boy. You even knew of the Orb, yes? How is it you know information about the King’s Realm?”

“The truth is much more complicated than you would believe. Just as the truths you believe are much more complicated than they seem.”

Aizen frowned.

“Ichigo, whatever do you mean.” Urahara said baffled.

“I mentioned earlier that I died. Twice actually, in addition to the time you killed me anyway,” He stated.

“What?!” Isshin grew red in the face. Urahara had the decency to look ashamed.

“When I died the first time in Hueco Mundo I gained Zangetsu. The real Zangetsu. Many of you are unaware of my heritage, which was the cause of my uncontrollable Reiatsu and the reason my soul was…unstable,” he said factually. “My father is Shiba Isshin, a former Taicho and Clan Head. My mother was Kurosaki Masaki, a Pureblood Quincy. My existence was made possible because of Aizen’s meddling with Hollow souls and the Hogyoku.”

He glanced at the man, then at the shocked expressions around him. 

“I won’t get into it, but long story short; an experiment, Arrancar, named White attacked my father. My mother came to help and was bit killing it. Urahara helped them both and eventually saved my mother’s life by locking the Hollow’s poisonous Reiatsu away with my father’s powers.”

He took a breath, “I was born of a Shinigami and a Quincy, the Hollow passed to me upon my birth. It took me a while to sort out the troubles this caused within my soul and Zangetsu.”

He looked at Aizen, “The second time I died, I unlocked a seal hidden deep within my soul.”

Urahara frowned, “What kind of seal Ichigo?”

“A Royal Seal.”

Soutaicho’s eyes flew open.

“What?!” Urahara gasped breathlessly. 

Aizen narrowed his eyes calculatingly.

“Like I said, the truth is complicated. I know what I know because the seal was broken,” he paused, “What I mean is…” hesitantly, “the me you see before you is not all of me. I am your Ichigo, but I am also much more.”

Isshin’s eyes widened. “But you are my son?”

“Of course, goat-face, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” he chuckled.

Isshin and Urahara breathed a sigh of relief.

“Kurosaki Ichigo.” 

Soutaicho said sternly. 

Ichigo turned to him. 

“Kurosaki Ichigo. If this is the truth, to what end is Aizen your purpose? Are you here as an ally or an enemy? Can we rely on your aid as we have once before?” Yamamoto said sagely.

Ichigo looked at the man sincerely and nodded. 

“I suppose the easiest way, would be to show you. My words seem to be hindering rather than helping me explain the magnitude of what has occurred, what is occurring, and what will occur.”

Yamamoto observed the young man, and then conceded, “Very well, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

…

Aizen was frowning in frustration. He was confused. This wasn’t going his way at all. How had the situation gotten so far out of his grasp? 

He was disinclined to let the boy do whatever it was he was about to pull, but he was curious. 

Very curious.

He wanted to know how the boy knew what he knew. He wanted to know what the boy gained, what exactly a Royal Seal was. It seemed only Urahara and Yamamoto knew.

He wanted the beginning of the boy’s explanation to make sense!

Lover? Forged power? Blindness? Poison? What were these things about! 

How can you know the truth, but not know it? 

Too many unknowns and only one way to get the answers.

The boy.

…

Ichigo closed his eyes and exhaled softly. 

“Zangetsu,” he said softly.

The Zanpakutō sealed itself and he sheathed the blade. 

Everyone watched in confusion as the teen opened his eyes and held his hand out as if to grab something.

“I departed as Kurosaki Ichigo. Your ally. I re-forged Zangetsu is the flames of my soul. Awakened, Hi no Ou reigns as ally to all, and then opened my eyes born anew.”  
Ichigo looks into the eyes of those around him. His eyes like glowing embers. 

He drew a Zanpakutō out of thin air. 

His hand closed around it, and the explosion of power knocked everyone off their feet and the breath from their lungs. For a few seconds the pressure was so intense they feared they would be crushed under its massive weight. 

And then as suddenly as it was, it was gone. Completely. 

…

The blast had hit everyone with Reiatsu and the ones injured began to heal rapidly. 

The Soutaicho’s bushy brows had climbed comically high on his forehead and his eyes were all the way open for once. The power had knocked him clear off his feet. He had never in his 2000 years felt such enormous and all-consuming power. 

If there was one thing Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni rarely felt it would be to feel small. He hadn’t felt such in centuries.

Right now he was feeling very, very small.

Everyone was still holding their breath. Uncertain what had just happened and if the figure in front of them was indeed Ichigo.

…

Aizen’s face showed open shock. 

The man simply had no idea how to respond to this unexpected variable. If one could even call a being of such power something as quaint as a variable. 

He was being choked by sheer raw power. Rather than being worried for his life or the sheer magnitude of power being displayed, he was intrigued, moved, he was enraptured, he wanted.

From the faces of those around him he could tell that no one knew what they were dealing with or how to react.

That was fine. He would swoop in and use this to his advantage. He would gain this mysterious being’s power, he would have it.

What he didn’t expect was the piercing stare he was met with. The undivided attention of the being that was Kurosaki Ichigo and yet something else entirely.

…

Ichigo felt his power skyrocket and burst from his form, destroying his shell and breaking the last of any seals holding his Reiatsu back. His Zanpakutō breathed with him and Shiro was laughing in sheer glee. His spirits basked in the freedom. Finally.

He worried that the outpouring of Reiatsu would crush the Shinigami in the area, might even disintegrate the very fabric of reality.

He quickly reined it in. He was able to contain his power much more easily now that he was in his correct form.

…

He looked down at himself. Drinking in his body and relishing the freedom of his power and being within his skin.

Ichigo was still tanned and lithe. He appeared softer, less sharp edged. His hands were soft and elegant. No longer was his skin scarred and calloused. It was as if he had shed his old skin too reveal glowing flesh.

His hair was long and thick. It was the brightest orange of tiger lilies and flames. Not any one color of orange but rather a multitude of oranges and golds and crimson. Each strand catching and radiating the light of the sun. There was a long dark indigo ribbon holding up most of it in a high ponytail, even then the length reached well past his hips. Strands were free around his face and danced in the wind. 

He wore an elegant silk Royal Kimono of the purest white. It graced his bare feet in a long train of rich fabric and the sleeves came just over his fingertips. Nails fine like glass. The edges and inside were lined with a fiery red and the kimono itself was emblazoned with a burning sun that flamed its way over the kimono like blood on fresh fallen snow. 

He had a Zanpakutô in his hand. It was thin and long. The blade reflected the light around it so much it appeared like crystal and the hilt was a deep gold. The guard was a bronze sun.

He wore an indigo rope on his wrist clasped with a black moon. 

His lips were full and pink, his nose straight and regal. His lashes were long and full. He was radiant.

It was his eyes, though, that captured his audience. 

They were a wide almond shape, they appeared impossibly large. The color was both the same and not as before.  
They were like sunlight shining through bourbon, the rarest amber, they shone brighter than the sun and radiated fire. They were golden and crimson. Copper and ochre. The color changing with the turn of his head and the of catch of the sun.

He was the personification of the Sun.

…

Ichigo smiled softly at his bewildered audience and snapped his fingers.

Any Taicho or Fukutaicho not already there suddenly appeared.

Another snap and there were Taicho and Fukutaicho dragged straight from Hueco Mundo. Rukia had been dragged along with Renji. Ichigo’s three human friends had landed in a pile on one of the buildings still standing. The Exequias were looking around in confusion.

Ishida Ryuuken had his bow drawn and was looking thoroughly perplexed.

Another snap, the Espada both alive and some ones who had previously perished appeared looking discombobulated. 

The Primera and the Tres were shocked by the appearance of Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, Nnoitora, Szayel, a restored Zommari, Nelliel, and Kaien – the sight of whom drew a shocked gasp from Rukia and rapid paling from Ukitake.

“Itsygo!” A happy cheer burst from Nel, who had no trouble recognizing the man before her. 

Ichigo chuckled and snapped his fingers once more. 

No one else appeared. 

But the Espada reacted. 

Some jumped, some twitched, Ulquiorra blinked. 

“What the Hell?!” Grimmjow yelled.

“Where the fuck’er we?” Nnoitora demanded.

“More importantly, it seems Lord Aizen’s sway over us has been lifted somehow.” Ulquiorra intoned monotonously.

They froze and looked at each other. It was true. They were clear headed. They were in control of themselves again.

“Wait. Wait. What the…I mean…how…fuck…what the hell!” Renji yelled from his sprawled place under Rukia.

“Eloquent as always Abarai Fukutaicho.” Came a put-upon voice.

“Aizen!?”

At Renji’s exclamation the new arrivals glanced around at their surroundings and the people there. The all turned to see Aizen standing with a rather large frown on his face.

And then they turned to see who the frown was aimed at.

“Ichigo!?” Rukia jumped up. 

He nodded at them. 

“Kurosaki Ichigo what is the meaning of this.” Aizen said menacingly. 

“The truth,” he said to the man, “now that everyone is here,” he paused. 

“How did you…”

Ichigo cut him off. “Later. All that matters is that everyone who needs to be here is here, and the influence of your Zanpakutō has been nullified.”

There were gasps of shock from the crowd. 

“So the Espada…?” Uryuu didn’t even need to finish the thought. 

Everyone was properly horrified at the revelation.

“Impossible!” But even as he said it his Bankai was disappearing.

He locked his sight on Aizen. Staring into the man’s disbelieving eyes, he says as if in a trance,

“A Spark ignited

and stocked by a callous Moon, 

freed, 

burns everything it touches;

Passion,

immovable inferno, 

reaching for the Moon, 

devours blackened heart. 

From the ashes 

like a phoenix, 

Revolution.”

The Soutaicho had his eyes open wide for the first time anyone could remember. The boy, man, this living flame in front of his wizened eyes had spoken prophesy. 

He was over 2,000 years old, but the Three Worlds was many, many times more ancient. In all that time there was one scroll, one prophesy, most sacred. While the location of the Ouken was not known, the whereabouts of this scroll had always been known. No one knows how old it is, no one knows who wrote it, or how it ended up in an ancient clan’s possession. The clan was no more, but the shrine still stood. It was a sacred place of prayer and pilgrimage. It was the basis for their belief in what became known as the Soul King.

The scroll was signed ‘Hi no Ou’ or ‘King of the Sun.’

The silence was deafening. 

While the Espada and the Humans had no idea what these words meant, every Shinigami did.

Aizen was petrified. Not scared, but frozen like stone. His eyes, still locked with Ichigo’s, were wide with absolute astonishment.

The Soutaicho exhaled audibly. He seemed to come into himself and every muscle relaxed.

Everyone watched in amazement as the ancient man, bones creaking, sank to his knees. He placed his sealed Zanpakutō in front of him, clasped his hands, folded, on his lap, and bowed his wrinkled head to the crimson man.

…

Once the shock had passed, the Shinigami seemed to move as one to emulate the Soutaicho. 

The only ones left standing were the Espada, Aizen, and the small group of humans, who were beyond confused. 

“What the SHIT?!” Nnoitora exclaimed.

“Aizen-sama.” Ulquiorra looked to their leader for guidance. Their second in command, Gin had sunk in supplication as well. What exactly was protocol for an event such as this?

…

Ryuuken was frozen, his mind whirling, a thousand thoughts flashing through his mind. The phrase “Hi no Ou.” 

It was familiar to him. 

His father and his father’s father, on back through generations passed a legend among their people. The legend could be traced back to before the Quincy King, Ywach Juha Bach. 

The legend told of a pair of Kami, a Sun and a Moon, who came to the World and blessed its people. Blessed THEIR people. 

The Quincy, before the fall were loyal only to their King, they worshiped no one, but him. But the legend told of a time before Ywach, the era of the Quincy Emperor. He and the people prayed and offered tribute to the Kami. And they had been mighty. 

The Emperor had a pendant he kept on him always. An ancient one, a gift, supposedly from the Kami. He took it with him to his grave.

“Uryuu.” He said.

Uryuu turned head enough to see his father out of the corner of his eyes, he gave a short nod.

It seems Uryuu remembered the tales his grandfather had told him. 

Together they bent down on one knee, backs straight, one arm folded behind their backs and the other folded across their chest, open palm on their hearts. The Quincy Cross, from their place on their wrists, lay upon it as well. 

…

Orihime was looking around in ditzy confusion. Sado was blank-faced. 

Chad knew Ichigo. They were brothers. Comrades. And partners. Something big had happened, but this was still Ichigo.  
He would follow the man anywhere, and so it was an easy decision to make a pledge as the others seemed to be doing.

“Inoue.” 

He said deeply to the distressed girl. 

“Sado-kun, ano, what…?” 

“This is Ichigo.”

He was a man of few words, but he felt those three words encompassed many meanings. Ichigo who was brave and fierce. He was a protector. Unpredictable, unmovable, trustworthy, kind, their friend. He was a man they followed into battle time and again. The man who would lay his life down for them with no question. This was that man. And now, he was something greater still.

Orihime nodded, eyes burning with feelings. 

They saw the Shinigami and the Quincy had their own way of showing their allegiance. They would need one as well.

Their weapons, the medium through which their powers were channeled were objects which had great meaning to them. The Quincy and Shinigami had disarmed themselves. They would too.

The two of them sank to folded knees, holding their arms out in front of them, they offered their objects on outstretched open palms. 

…

The Espada were growing restless. Not even a few minutes had gone by and everyone was offering themselves to this man. Someone who they thought had been their enemy not five minutes ago. Their commander was doing nothing. He was still staring at the flame-haired man. The two appeared to not take notice of those around them. 

Ulquiorra had received no response from the ex-Shinigami. He frowned. 

He turned to the next in command. The Primera. Starrk Coyote.

The rest of the Espada and their Fraccion followed his lead.

“Primera-san. Your orders?”

The Primera blew out a huge breath, running a palm over his face in exhaustion. He was too tired for this.

Starrk Coyote was old. He was not the same age as Barragan had been, no one knew how old that bastard was. But he was easily the oldest out of the Espada, Tia or Ulquiorra second he would wager a guess. 

He was a solitary man and had not had company for centuries until the ex-Shinigami made contact with him. 

He recognized a prophesy when he heard one though. Every society had them. Legends and Myths and Prophesies. 

Case in point, the Shinigami and Quincy seemed to have similar thoughts regarding it despite the fact they were from two separate worlds.

This one sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he didn’t bother examining why.

The man as well. His eyes. That golden, amber hue; wide and warm, they drew him in. 

He was unsure what exactly was going on with the man, Ichigo, and his commander, but he was a go with the flow kind of guy. 

If they had no orders, and they did not know who this other man was, then it stood to reason that they had just become a neutral party until otherwise stated. 

Only a couple of them were in Resurrección. Grimmjow and Gilga were, as were most of the Fraccion. 

He addressed them calmly and firmly.

“We are neutral. Sheath your weapons and stand at attention.”

He watched as they all obeyed. 

Gilga was giving him a nasty sneer but he ignored it. 

Grimmjow was ever the curious cat. His eyes were wide and he looked more hyper than he had any right to be. 

Ulquiorra nodded in agreement with his order next to him. 

Good. He had always liked the Cuarto.

…

The battlefield was completely silent. 

The two men having a silent stare down finally broke eye contact. 

He spoke words of old. Of promise and passion. But there was no recognition in the man’s cold gaze.

“When I first awoke, when the seal was lifted and I remembered who I was, had been, I thought of you Sousuke. My Moon.  
I have crossed oceans of time to be with you.  
And then the icy tendrils of reality stung me, and I remembered you.  
You are my Sousuke, but yet you are not at all. I came here today for you. I am prepared to kill you Aizen. But the pain I feel when I look at you is not from knowing this. My heart does not ache when I think of your death. 

No. 

It is the coldness in your eyes which should be warm.

It is the blackness seeping through your soul.

It is the void I see where once a heart beat for me.

It is the sandpaper feeling, the broken glass of your Reiatsu against mine.”

He couldn’t keep the hot tears from falling down his cheeks.

“You could not hear my voice. You could not hear my soul. My blade could not reach you no matter how hard I tried.  
I know he is in there. The Sousuke I loved. Still love.” He paused, breathing harshly as he gripped his aching chest.

“If I tore the very heart out of my chest and put it in your hands, would I finally reach you?”

…

Urahara thought, ‘Something huge is happening here, and the fallout could be catastrophic.’

…

Yamamoto was silent in his wondering. What does one say when confronted with their King? A King who hasn’t been seen in over 2,000 years?

…

“Beautiful,” Yumichika breathed.

…

Aizen was struck speechless. 

…

“Please stand my friends, my comrades, my children. I am honored you remember me, in whichever way you have been told,” he smiled, but his eyes were still weeping. 

“I said I would tell you the truth, and it begins thus:

Long ago, before the Three Worlds were formed from the void, there was a being named Truth.  
Truth’s power lay in Chaos and Order. Great forces of energy.  
These forces came together in a clash of power. What came of it was the Three Worlds.  
Truth created a being to watch over his creation.  
This was The Balancer. The true Soul King.

A misconception exists that the Living World is for living souls while Soul Society and Hueco Mundo are for souls who have perished. This is incorrect.

We live in a constant cycle of death and rebirth. The death of a being in one plane results in birth in another. Over and again. Death leads to beginning and Birth leads to ending.  
All three worlds are connected by death and rebirth. They come together and separate, an endless chain of renewal.” 

He looked to them, “This universe is made of dualities. Order and Chaos. Light and Dark. Day and Night,” he gave a soft smile, “Sun and Moon.

The Balancer was a bright Sun. His power a light that shined on the Worlds.  
But he was alone. He was one being with three very vast and different Worlds to nurture.  
And so he sought the Moon. 

There was a World of endless night and endless cold. Sand and blackened tree covered much of this land. The beings who lived there were ruled by instincts. They were hollow and starved eternally unless they evolved. This was their nature. Hollows.

The Sun found a Moon here. He was a Hollow who had grown and forsook the mask. He was strong and intelligent. He was a fierce protector and an excellent strategist. 

He was a wolf before the moon. The Sun made him ruler, his name, King of the Hollows,” His gaze lingered on Starrk.

The Primera was the recipient of many stares, Shinigami and Hollow alike.

“There was another World. A World of ocean and green. One land full of many beings. Plants and animals.  
His children were human. They came in all kinds. There were souls who were simple but happy, some, their energy small, but their hearts big. There were ones who lived by the Bow, they were protectors. Quincy.” He looked to the two Quincy. 

“There were souls who channeled their talents. Divided by healers and warriors. Fullbring they were called.” He nodded at Orihime and Chad.

“The Quincy had a just and fair leader and he wielded a bow of blue. The Sun named him Emperor of this world of land and sea, he was the Sun’s second Moon.” He side-eyed 

Uryuu who looked back at him in startled bewilderment. 

“The Third land was full of small souls with much need of guidance. The larger souls were charged leaders, protectors, and healers. Shinigami.

The land had no one to lead it. They were struggling. And so, the Sun searched, he found a Shinigami of the Moon. His title was King of Shinigami. He was powerful and cunning, but was wise and kind,” he looked at Urahara.

“He became the Sun’s third Moon,” He wiped stray tears from his face.

Urahara was so flabbergasted he looked almost comical from his place beside Isshin.

“Each Moon guided and protected his world. Appointed trusted friends for aid and counsel.  
Each Moon was given special gifts from the Sun for he loved them all. 

One such gift was a bond they shared with their Sun. A Golden Bond so they may find each other always. The other a Crimson Bond. A Red Thread tying them to their own personal Sun; for what is a King without his Consort.”

He paused. “Years passed, and the Three Worlds lived in harmony within themselves and with each other.”

He laughed mirthlessly, “But even surrounded by his three Moons, surrounded by their Sun Consorts, beloved by their courts and the people, he felt alone.”

He turned his sad gaze to Aizen once more. His golden eyes glimmering with tears. 

“The Sun searched all the Three Worlds for someone, something, his very own Consort, to fill the hole in his heart.”

He placed his hand over his, “He thought he would never find the thing he searched for, the thing he wanted most.  
And when he had given up, when he despaired. It was under the light of the moon he found him and he himself was found.” He smiled softly. 

“They caught each other’s gaze in the reflection of a lotus pond,” he laughed breathily. “The Moon had been searching for him too.”

Aizen was still frozen in place, but he wore a look of intense confusion. 

“Theirs was an eternal love. They watched over the Three Worlds together for time immeasurable.  
But everything has its beginning and its end,” he frowned.

“The Sun wrote many things down; histories, teachings, and prophesies. But he kept just one to himself. It scared him, he wished to ignore it, but he was reminded of it everyday when he saw his Consort, when he saw his three Moon Kings.”

He closed his eyes and clenched the fabric over his heart. 

“Balance and peace;

The Light of a burning Star,

No more.

The Triad Lunar glows,

Sunspots,

Kingdoms of Stars;

Shine brightly, 

But brightly are burned.

Without Order there is Chaos,

Chaos without Order,

There Reigns bitter Winter.

Summer, a far,

Far distant dream.”

He reopened his eyes, brow crinkled in sorrow.

“The Sun never spoke false prophesy, and he was helpless to stop what came to pass.”

Ichigo paused, seeming to lose himself in a terrible past.

…

Starrk Coyote was transfixed. Ulquiorra kept glancing at him, always observant. Starrk knew his attention and focused interest were almost unheard of. He was acting slightly out of character. 

But he was losing himself in the man’s soft voice. He was not seeing what was around him but seeing into the words the man spoke. Familiar times and places just out of his reach.

A long, silent moment passed, and as he said, go with the flow, he went with it. No reason not to. 

The man appeared so sad and lost, he couldn’t help but speak words that seemed to flow straight off his tongue. As if he had spoken them many times.

Heedless of the looks, he took a step forward, “Mi Reina del Sol, what troubles you?” He asked softly, but sincerely.

As if in a memory, Ichigo replied, “Some uncertain peril, one we may not overcome. Nothing for you to worry over, mi Lobo del Luna.” He smiled gently.  
He inhaled sharply and blinked.

“Ichigo.” He heard many concerned voices, but he brushed them off with a reassuring glance. 

He smiled warmly at Starrk and then continued.

“Things may have continued as they should have, but this Being was not invincible, and eternity is a long time,” he gave a soft chuckle.

“Though he was wary to do so, he was due for a rest. Every few thousand years the Sun would sleep for 100 years. During this time, he trusted the Moons to keep order of their respected worlds. He trusted his Palace guards to protect him. These were men he had chosen from each of the Three Worlds, powerful and just men and women whom he loved.”  
Ichigo smiled sadly, “But his trust was misplaced.”

“No way! You mean they killed him!?” Grimmjow yelled outraged. 

With a small nod he continued, “In a way.”

He wiped his eyes.

“The details matter not right now. In conclusion, knowing of his fate, the Sun compressed his energy so that the Worlds would be stable in his indefinite absence. The Orb you spoke of Sousuke,” he looked the disbelieving man in the eye.

“The Orb was all that was left of him. Of course, the Moons were devasted, they wanted justice, they wanted their Sun back.

The Soul King’s Consort, the Moon, was inconsolable,” he gave a light sob.

“The loss of their bond drove him near mad with grief. He sealed himself away for centuries and he changed, and the lands changed. He hid the memories which burned away at himself and this is what led to years and years of wandering without purpose, until all purpose was lost. 

A war broke out. A devastating War. Incited by those same traitors to the Sun, the Shinigami and the Hollow and the Quincy tore into each other. Each group believing the other was responsible for the loss of the Sun. They were driven further in their reasonings by the differences between their races and natures. The truth became hideously distorted. In the end, the Moons destroyed each other and their kingdoms fell into lawlessness and an era of ignorance.

The rest is history.”

Ichigo trailed off quietly.

“Ichigo,” Urahara Kisuke was at a loss for words. For once the enormity of the situation had stalled his ever-running brain.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Soutaicho’s wise and tired voice sounded. “What is the meaning of all of this.”

Ichigo was silent for a moment before he said, “What I mean by all of this is, the time of the long Winter has come to an end. The Sun has returned to heal the land and melt the frost of strife and incomprehension. 

The Moons have appeared in the sky, they have waxed and waned and are now Full. 

What remains is my purpose here today,” he finished with a radiant smile.

There were many calls of his name in awe, in disbelief, in happiness, in confusion, and stupefaction.

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Byakuya’s noble voice rang out strong in the cacophony of voices. 

The fire-haired being turned to the steel-eyed Rokubantai-taicho. 

“If what you say is the truth, then am I to take your word to mean that we are standing in the presence of the Soul King and these so-called Moons? And if so, then this War will end once your purpose, Aizen Sousuke has been dealt with?”

Ichigo chuckled lightly, “Sharp as always, Byakuya.”

A loud bark of laughter cut through the air sharply.

Everyone turned to see Aizen begin to laugh loudly and mockingly, the action out of character for the normally composed man.

“This is beyond ludicrous, Kurosaki Ichigo. You may have all of them fooled, but you will not get the best of me. If you are this so-called Soul King, then I will just kill you and take your place. No matter how powerful you think you have become, I am stronger. I have transcended the limits of the soul and become God. None of you can comprehend my being. With the Hogyoku I will continue to grow in power, none of you will be able to stop me,” he sneered.

There were shouts of outrage all around him, many ready to jump in again in Ichigo’s defense. The frown which passed over Ichigo’s face, the hard look in his eyes which strengthened as Aizen spoke incited a chill of trepidation within them.

Clearing his face, Ichigo sighed deeply and audibly.

“I can see the time for words is past. Let’s not delay the inevitable any longer then.”

“Oh? Now that is most certainly true, Kurosaki Ichigo,” Aizen glared at him condescendingly.

A brief flash of sadness marred his bright eyes and was quickly gone. To Aizen’s shock, the flame-haired man sheathed his Zanpakutō.

“What is the meaning of this, boy. Surely you do not think so much of yourself as to arrogantly come at me bare-handed?” He said in quite anger. “I will erase you from…”

“Aizen,” Ichigo cut him off, “Sousuke. I’m sorry.”

Before the man could open his mouth, Ichigo whispered, “Shatter, Kyouka Suigetsu.”

To all of their astonishment, the blade shattered and dissolved into ash within Aizen’s grip. The brief look of horror on the man’s indignant face was gratifying.

“What,” he uttered.

A flash of gold and orange was all they saw before he was in Aizen’s face. The self-proclaimed god had little time to bring up his arms to block Ichigo, all he could do was cling to the man’s arms in a death-grip as the golden being shoved his hand through his chest and clenched around the Hogyoku. 

The blood which poured from his mouth stained the true King’s white robes. Eyes widening in disbelief, Aizen’s eyes locked with Ichigo’s own crying amber orbs.

He felt a twist in the heart the boy said was not in him. 

Under the frozen eyes of his audience, the newly awoken Sun steeled his resolve, tightened his grip on the poisonous object within Sousuke’s chest, and began to channel his Reiatsu into the bleeding wound.

Gasping wetly at the burning feeling of golden Reiatsu, his fingers tightened on Ichigo’s arms, clenching the fabric there with all his strength.

“I’m so sorry, Sousuke.”

He tried to focus on the man through blurry eyes, his sight only filled with the gold and the orange of His hair. He choked as he tried to speak.

An increase in pressure within his chest was followed by the feeling of hot fire coursing through his veins. The golden Reiatsu flaming its way through his soul and scotching everything in its path. It felt as if his flesh was boiling, his blood evaporating, so intense he couldn’t scream for one long moment.

An eternity seemed to pass before his lungs finally allowed a high, blood-curdling scream to issue from his crimson mouth. It was so loud and forceful he could feel his throat and vocal cords tearing from the strain. His sight was filled only with a bright white light.

The pressure Ichigo was exerting on the Hogyoku was intense, the group of Espada closest to his position struggled to breathe as the quickly moved away. The Shinigami even further back struggled to stay standing as the force pressed down on their shoulders and made them break out in a cold sweat.

The significance of the second apology didn’t hit them until the horrific, broken screeching issued forth from the convulsing man. The sound of Aizen’s harrowing wailing poured through them like ice in their veins. 

As if the sight wasn’t gruesome enough, they could see a pitch-black sludge making its way out of his mouth and chest around Ichigo’s clenched hand along with the blood.  
Disgusting and thick, the tar-like substance burbled its way out.

Eyebrows furrowing in concentration, Ichigo felt the Hogyoku begin to break down. The poison started to leak out around his fingers and from Aizen’s mouth. The sound of his pain echoing through Ichigo’s being as if it were his own. 

He knew the man was strong. He just hoped Sousuke was strong enough to survive the purification.

The moment the orb cracked and began to dissolve in his grasp filled him with a burst of grim determination. The loss of its power was like a battery dying inside the now sobbing ex-taicho.

…

When Sousuke felt the Hogyoku leave him, it was a gaping cold feeling. He felt like a large piece of himself was suddenly gone. The loss of power was incredibly substantial. He had never felt this weak.

A wave of relieved gasps and elated exclamations sounded from around the pair as the others registered the extreme drop in power from Aizen. 

“It’s gone,” Urahara said in awed incredulity. 

More shouts were heard as everyone registered the impossible statement.

“Not possible!”

“Finally.”

“No Way!”

“He did it. He really did it…”

“Ichigo…”

“Wha’d I tell ya?!”

…

He couldn’t spare a moment to smile at the happiness erupting around him or let up for a second on his concentration.

The orb was gone, the poison was cleared from the man’s soul. He was unsure if the dissolution of Kyouka Suigetsu and the infusion of his Reiatsu into Sousuke would help to alleviate the issue of his sealed heart and memories. But the problem was now the gaping hole left in his soul and body, the loss of a substantial core of power. The orb had taken  
Sousuke’s Reiyoku almost entirely. His core was eaten away by the orb to fuel its hunger. 

His hand still gripping the ‘heart’ of the gasping man, he now turned his attention to healing.

The grip on his arms had loosened with Aizen’s weakening, allowing him to use his free arm to wipe away the mess of gore and poison sludge from Sousuke’s face.

Not minding his stained clothing, Ichigo lightly grasped the taller man’s face in his palm. He tilted his head down to lock their eyes. The brown eyes which met his own were dull and glazed over with pain and incomprehension. Willing away the stab in his own heart at the sight, he spared a thought for the sanity of his friends and family, and then leaned in to press their lips together.

…

The noise that left Shinji’s mouth was close to the sound of a dying horse and he had to be wacked on the back by Hiyori when he started choking on his own spit.

Isshin had turned bright red in outrage while Urahara and Ryuuken had paled dramatically.

Renji’s mouth was gaping like a fish next to Rukia, whose eyes were open so far, they looked ready to pop out of her head. Gin wasn’t far behind her.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Hitsugaya said, turning violently green in the face as he covered his mouth and turned away from the sight.

“Well, this is awkward,” the flowery kimono wearing Taicho uttered breezily.

Ukitake turned to his partner slightly incredulous with his hand pressed to his mouth at the randomness of the act taking place.

“Hah! No kidding,” Grimmjow barked out from his place surrounded by equally confused Espada.  
…

The man had started at the press of lips, he made a small, involuntary noise of confusion.

Ichigo didn’t let up. The man hadn’t pulled away, but neither was he returning the gesture. That was fine. He hadn’t really expected him to. 

Ichigo had to give Sousuke a replacement for his lost Reiyoku, this way was the most direct way to transfer some of his own into the man barring stabbing the man with his Zanpakutō. Seeing as the man already had a hole in him, and had lost a lot of blood already, he had decided to go this route.

Pushing some of his own Reiyoku through the wound under his hand and through the connection of their lips, Ichigo healed the damage done to the man’s soul by the Hogyoku and by himself. He felt the wound weaving itself together, the flesh regenerating, underneath his palm. Once that was finished he used the freed hand to draw himself even closer to the man in his arms. Holding Sousuke tightly to his own body, he deepened the kiss and focused all of his efforts on channeling his power into his Moon’s spiritual core.

Sousuke’s lips were soft and slightly full against his own. They tasted like blood but also something which was distinctly his love. He smelled the same. He tasted the same. The warmth seeping through his lips and body into his own lit him up from the inside. The searching feeling inside of him fading as he re-established the broken bond between the two. The connection couldn’t be fully formed because that required Sousuke’s voluntary involvement, but the small tether between them was enough to spread a wholly indescribable feeling through his soul, like finding home.

He poured more and more Reiyoku into the man, and then he could feel him responding beneath him. Rather than limply holding him, Sousuke embraced him. Rather than remaining closed lipped and still, his Moon pressed into the kiss, he took charge over their lips as his tongue sought out Ichigo’s own. 

They were probably getting too aggressive and into each other for public eyes, but in that moment he couldn’t care less if the world fell away and the seasons changed and moved around him, as long as he could stay connected to these lips and feel these large hands on himself.

…

Even more inconceivably, it seemed Aizen was actually kissing Ichigo back?!

“Should we… say something...?” Yumichika ventured.

Orihime squeaked again, her face as red as a tomato. The noise caught the attention of Ulquiorra, who began staring intently at her as if her face held the answers to the universe. 

For him, they might.

“What even is happening right now?” Hisagi uttered next to Kira, Matsumoto, and Momo; the three having been healed when Ichigo initially released his Zanpakutō.

Matsumoto chuckled at the flummoxed man’s face. 

“Aizen… T-taicho…t-t Aiz…” Momo was sputtering and stuttering.

Ishida, ever observant and analytical made to answer the question at the same time Szyael and Kurotsuchi opened their mouths to do the same.

“Well, it seems…”

“If we gauge the increase in Aizen-sama’s Reiatsu…”

“Obviously, the ryoka-boy is in the process of transferring a highly concentrated form of his Reiatsu…”

They all paused and glared at each other. The pink-haired Espada twisting his face up unattractively at the flashy scientific Captain.

Ishida huffed and pushed his glasses up.

“…So he’s healin’ em…?” Nnoitora leaned forward and squinted his eye at the scene.

“That would appear to be the case, trash,” Ulquiorra stated monotonously.

Starrk sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck in exhaustion as Tia simply rolled her eyes at the squawk of fury the Quinta released.

“This isn’t exactly what I was expecting when Kurosaki-kun said he was going to deal with Aizen,” Rose sweat-dropped.

Soutaicho rumbled in agreement but made no move to stop the proceedings. Really, what could they do? If Kurosaki Ichigo was the Soul King, the returned and prophesized Hi no Ou, who was he to dictate what the being did with war criminals? This was out of his hands and being taken care of. As far as he was concerned, the war was over, the threat suppressed, and there had been little to no casualties on any side. 

“Since when has Ichigo-chan done anything conventionally?” Yoruichi chortled. 

…

Sousuke’s core was rapidly weaving itself back together under the influence of the wave of super-charged Reiatsu. Connected soul to soul as they were right now, Ichigo could feel Sousuke’s soul trying to absorb the healing energy, sucking it in like a vacuum hungrily. The loss had been great, but the drain on Ichigo’s own endless reserves wasn’t making a dent on his own core. 

As the process neared completion, Ichigo could feel Sousuke’s grip begin to loosen again. His body and soul had been poisoned and then ravaged by the purification. The healing was relaxing and relieving his being from the long period of ruin he had been through. Their lips began to move slower, with less force. The kisses became long and soft, he blushed at the intimacy between them.

When the last piece of the Moon’s being had been filled out and healed, their lips separated quietly, haltingly. Neither of them seemed to want to release the other. 

…

The sight of Ichigo licking his lips drew Sousuke’s gaze, he smiled softly. 

For the first time in years and years he felt at peace. His heart and soul felt free and warm. His mind was clear, his eyes seeing the world for the first time as if he had been blinded before Ichigo kissed him. The feeling was liberating and exciting. He could vaguely feel Kyouka Suigetsu slumbering within his mind. The spirit no longer exuding a feeling of loneliness. 

The horror of what he had done, the feelings of guilt and devastation at the thought of the people he had hurt, killed, or manipulated had not fully registered yet. He knew somewhere in the haze of his mind that he had just been awoken from an endless nightmare or his own making. He didn’t know what the future would bring or what his place in it was. All he could focus on was the golden, radiant being within the curve of his arms. 

Memories past and present swirled in a confusing mess within his mind as he tried to piece together who this splendid creature really was.

A flame-haired ryoka-boy. A naïve, bright-eyed savior, come to rescue a condemned woman. A lover. His Consort. His Sun. His reason for being. An experiment. A fascinating hybrid. A means to an end. A nuisance. A threat. A pest. A God, his God. King of All. Balancer. His Bonded. Never want to part from… Must get rid of… Shiba. Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo. Lone protector. Infuriating, gnat, insignificant… Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…Hi no Ou, King of the Sun…  
Exhaling, breathing for the first time, his eyes met amber. 

…

Everyone held their breath as the two finally parted. They didn’t move away from each other, they were so close they were breathing each other’s air. 

No one knew what was going to happen next. They assumed the madman was now fully healed. But what exactly did that mean? What did it mean for them? Was everything this man had done going to be brushed under the metaphorical rug? All the pain and suffering and loss this man had caused…if the man ‘Aizen’ was gone, dead, and all that was left was ‘Sousuke,’ where did they go from here?

…

Ichigo inhaled sharply at the look of love and recognition in the man’s eyes. He felt tears roll down his cheeks once more, unbidden.

This was his Sousuke. This was his Moon.

“Sousuke,” he breathed it out like a prayer.

The warmly smiling man closed his eyes at the longing in his love’s voice. As the taller man leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ichigo’s forehead he said, voice strong and deep and equally reverent, the name Ichigo had been hoping beyond hope would fall from his lips since the moment he had broken the seal on his own memories.

Loud enough for himself and those around them to hear in the uncertain silence, Sousuke called to him.

“My King of the Sun. [琥珀] Kohaku,” his thumbs brushed Ichigo’s tears from his cheeks as the ghost of his lips left his skin.

And though he was expecting it, the golden Sun was still alarmed when Sousuke became dead-weight in his arms, finally succumbing to his soul’s forced healing-coma. 

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts once more. 

Shit.

He had so much explaining to do.

If the sound of his dad’s continuous wailing, and loud retching noises from Shinji— he might actually be puking this time— were any indication, it was going to be a long day. 

“Let’s get it, King.”

His lips ticked up into a small smile.

…

Fin


End file.
